


The Detective and a Dhampire have a discussion

by TheInfamousFingersmith



Category: Johannes Cabal - Jonathan L. Howard
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 16:48:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17770550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInfamousFingersmith/pseuds/TheInfamousFingersmith
Summary: A snatch of conversation one brandy warmed night.A little bit of fluff and nonsense.





	The Detective and a Dhampire have a discussion

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to comment and report any glaring typos or such. I am a lazy proof reader.

“How do you do it?” she asked.

The brandy bottle was all but empty now, or she might not have been so bold in her question.

“Excuse me?” 

“You know. The women. How do you do it? I know it’s not all supernatural trickery and,” she wiggled her fingers for effect “hoodoo. So I want to know. How do you do it? Call it a professional interest.”

“I didn’t realise you’d qualified?”

She dipped her nose back into her snifter and nodded.   
“mmhmm. Last month. I’m now all official and employed.”

“Congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she chimed their glasses as he offered his to her. “Now stop avoiding the question.”

“I didn’t realise a criminologist needed lessons in seduction.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“Horst. You know that’s not what I’m getting,”

“Professional interest?”

“A good detective should understand all aspects of how psychology functions”

“I don’t trick them”

“No. Oh god no. I’m not suggesting you do. But you must have some...” She slid off her shoes and tucked her stockinged feet under herself, trying to relax into the leather sofa to mask the awkwardness she felt. “...signature moves.”

He raised a brow at that.   
She waited for him to speak. 

He stood from his chair and stretched his limbs as he crossed to the decanter. He topped up her glass before filling his own and sank down into the empty corner of the sofa beside her. 

“I don’t know what to tell you”   
His brow was puckered in thought, drawing only the faintest lines in his honest countenance.   
She gave him a smile that told him she didn’t believe it.

“Really, Leonie.” he shrugged, “I just...talk to them”

She tilted her head, with her skeptical smile still in place.

“And listen. Listening is an important part of talking”

“No…tried and tested lines? Or stock of compliments to draw from?”  
“What use would that be? Everyone is different. I promise you, I don’t have some Rolodex of charm that I use.” He frowned in earnest, “I’m not a some kind of professional lothario, Leonie”

“No, no,” she shook her head in agreement “But, oh, come on Horst. Imagine there’s a pretty girl sitting in the cafe, how do you catch her attention?”

“Smile?”

She waved for him to demonstrate. He laughed. She shrugged her shoulder, it was a very beautiful smile, she had to admit.

“And then?” She urged him on.

“What?”

“Then what do you do?”

“Talk!”

“What about?”

“I don’t know. Anything. What do we talk about?”

“Murder”

“Maybe not that.”

“What then?” 

He looked about the room in exasperation, taking a smooth sip of his brandy while searching for inspiration.

“I don’t know. Literature. The weather. Anything. Maybe she’s wearing a nice hat.”

“She is. And then what?”

“Ask her for a drink?”

“She accepts. And then?”

“Buy her a drink”

She rolled her eyes.

“What?” he asked indignantly

“Well, you make it all sound so pedestrian. Any Tom Dick or Harry can do that. I want to know what makes you stand out from the crowd. I understand that you’re handsome-”

“Oh. Thank you”

“-and Tall-”  
“Thank you”

“-and have nice manners-”

“Thank you”

“-please, stop interrupting, I wasn’t trying to compliment you.”

“Oh. Sorry”

“Where was I?”

“You were saying how handsome and tall and well mannered I was”

“Right. Yes” she blushed. “So I understand that you are all those things. But so are other men. And I’ve known other men who were equally handsome and tall and well mannered, but not nearly so successful with women. So I’m trying to figure out what it is that makes you different.”

“Ah. Kissing, probably”

She raised her brow curiously.

“Kissing?”

“Yes. They’re probably very bad at it”

“And you’re very good at it?”

“Oh yes.”

“And that’s what makes the difference?”

“It is rather the point of it all...”

“Your technique I mean, that’s what sets you apart, makes you so successful with...”

He shrugged with genuine modesty.

“I mean, I could show you if you liked?”

Leonie scoffed into her brandy as she sipped at it, but as she withdrew from the lip of her glass she had a determined sparkle in her eye.

“Alright”

He blinked at her, unsure if she was serious.

“Go on. Educate me,”

“Leonie, I…”

She sat up straighter, turning her body to face him, the image of the perfect student, alert and eager to learn. 

“Really, Leonie I...”

“Really, Horst. Go on. I dare you. Show me your best move” 

There was something in her grin that reassured him, and he laughed softly, nodding in acquiescence.

“Are you ready?”

“I don’t need a countdown, Horst”

He smiled again, with warmth and amusement. He lent forward and gently took the glass from her hand, placing it carefully on the floor next to his, before turning his full attention upon her.   
She couldn’t place it, but even in that moment alone, something in him changed. Had he ever looked her directly in the eye like that before? Had anyone? She felt oddly exposed and delighted. To be the entire focus of Horst Cabal was a sensation all of it’s own. One that sent quiet ripples of excitement through her stomach and a flush to her cheeks. She could feel as he moved closer because the air between them grew warm and palpable. He shifted his weight as he reached out to smooth a lock of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear so as not to spoil his view of her face. She glanced at his mouth, he was so close their noses were almost touching. His fingertips brushed along her jaw, and he shifted his weight again in an almost predatory manner, just waiting to press down on her. She tried to hold his gaze.

She burst out in an ugly snort of brandy filled giggles.

“Leonie!” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” she laughed, fanning her face with her hand. 

“I’m trying to very serious here,”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t have to do this...”

“No. No. Go on. I promise I won’t laugh” 

It was his turn to give her a wry look.

“Please?” She smiled hopefully, shrinking back coyly into the sofa cushions.

He sighed, and smoothed his shirt front before resuming his position, this time pinning her in place between his arms and looking down at her with fresh amusement.

His kiss was perfect. She tried to approach the sensation with a removed, analytical mind. But as soon as his tongue had teased it’s way between her barely parted lips, she was a goner. She wasn’t sure when his hand had slipped under her waist to hold her tightly to length of his neatly muscled body, or when she had closed her fist about the curling chestnut locks of hair at the nape of his neck. When she finally came to her senses, she found herself entirely stretched out beneath him, pinned to the soft leather by the weight of his hips. With a thundering heart she untangled herself from the mess of limbs as Horst sat up and tried to smooth his ruffled hair. She cleared her throat, and he dabbed his pink face with the back of his hand.   
He returned her brandy to her. 

“Yes” she said at length. “That was… very pleasant”

“Thank you” 

They sipped their brandy from opposite ends of the sofa.

“So” Horst picked at an invisible stain on his knee, “about that, um, murder?”


End file.
